


you've never felt more alone

by etotheswan



Series: you've never felt more alone [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Spoilers for Episode 3x16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 15:44:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1433998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etotheswan/pseuds/etotheswan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Surrounded by people; it's easy to feel alone. Takes place after 3x16. Swan Queen fill in the blanks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you've never felt more alone

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't get this out of my head... It picks up right after episode 3x16.

 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

You look at her as you limp up to the yellow bug. Yes, you’re limping. It’s hard enough to actually admit that your sister won this round, but then to have to get a ride back to your home in this death trap? It’s embarrassing and frustrating and you will murder your sister if it’s the last thing you do, because no one does this to you. No one.

The last time someone made a fool of you, it was because you _allowed_ it.

“I’m fine,” you finally answer, gritting your teeth as you pull open the door to the vehicle. The metal creaks so loudly that your head actually starts throbbing more than it already is. You slide into the seat, holding your breath as you sit in the oddly comfortable seat. Her smell washes over you as her door creaks and then slams shut.

“You don’t seem fine,” she says softly before sliding the key into the ignition.

There’s something about the sound of the bug starting up that is very calming to you. It should grate on your nerves, but it’s familiar and it’s her and it’s memories of a time when things were messy, but they were yours.

A pain shoots through your backside when you turn to grab onto your seat belt, because of course one needs to think about safety first in _this_ vehicle, and you hiss. You glance at her when she reaches back to grab onto her seat belt and pulls it around herself, fastening hers before she reaches over to help you with yours. It makes your heart ache to know you didn’t have to ask for help. She gave it to you freely. And she always does. And she probably always will.

When the belt locks into place you take a deep breath and say, “Emma?”

“What?” she asks, her voice a little rough, but given the circumstances it’s oddly fitting. She’s looking at you and it takes everything in you to not look at her. You know once you lock onto her green eyes it’s all over.

“Don’t tell Henry about this. Ever. I know you won’t now, because why would you? But even if he remembers… Don’t tell him how his mother was thrown through the clock tower.”

You hear her sharp intake of breath, her hand on the gear shift, her eyes still boring into you. “Regina,” she whispers.

You don’t look at her. Gods. Don’t look at her. “Please do not act like you know what this feels like.”

“Will you look at me, please?’

“No,” you answer too quickly. “I won’t.”

“Regina. Look at me.” You see her hand grip the gear shift even harder and there’s a moment when your obstinance waivers and you almost bring your brown eyes up to meet hers.

“Emma, it’s not a discussion I wish to have with you right now, so please, put your death trap into drive and take me home.”

“Goddammit,” you hear her say through clenched teeth. “I wish you weren’t so stubborn.”

“Well, I wish you weren’t so relentless.” You don’t, though. You’re lying to her. And you know she knows that. She always knows when you’re lying. She said it herself.

“Sure,” she huffs.

The car lurches forward and putters off towards your home. The drive is silent and there’s a part of you that wants her to start talking if only because you hate silence these days. You talk to and see more people now than you have in the last 30 years, but truth be told, you’ve never felt more alone. Your entire life is filled with silence, especially at home and it’s starting to wear thin. You miss the sound of a young boy filling the house with shouting and music and video games. You miss the sound of him running up the stairs. You miss the sound of his laughter.

“I miss him so much.” The words are out of your mouth before you even have a chance to stop them. And if your hand moving quickly to cover your mouth is any indication to Emma, she knows you would never share that with her.

The car slows to a stop outside of 108 Mifflin and your hand immediately goes for the seat belt. And that’s when it happens.

She touches your hand.

With her hand.

And this is not what you wanted. You do not want this with her. You cannot have this with her. Not now. Especially not now.

“Stop,” you say. “Let me get out.”

“No,” she says. Her voice is firm and full of passion and dammit, Emma, stop being like this, you want to say.

“Just let me go,” you beg, your voice cracking and you really are showing it all right now, aren’t you?

“I know you miss him,” she breathes and her breath hits your skin.

You still do not look at her. There is no way that you can bring yourself to look at the savior in her car, in front of your house, with her hand on yours and this is not how a woman of your stature behaves. “Yes, I realize you _understand_ it. I’m sure you also missed him.”

“I did,” Emma says, softly again, her voice is really starting to get on your nerves. But not in the way that one would assume. It’s melting your resolve and this is not what you want or what you need. You are a grown woman. This is not how a grown woman should behave with the woman you should hate with every fiber of your being.

But you don’t.

You can’t.

And as time goes on, you know you never will.

“Please release my hand, Miss Swan,” you say with your best Evil Queen voice. It’s a sham, though. You haven’t been able to really conjure the Evil Queen when it comes to Emma Swan in quite some time and you and her both know it.

“Did she try to take your heart, Regina?”

Your eyes snap up to hers. There goes your resolve. “Why?”

“Just tell me.”

You nod your head and it’s almost like you’re in a trance and Emma Swan’s eyes are the only thing holding you to this world.

“Why couldn’t she?”

You take a deep breath into your lungs and finally tear your eyes from hers. As you release it, you remember the way Robin had held the leather pouch with your heart in it. You stomach churns. “Because if my mother taught me anything, it’s to _always_ guard your heart.”

“Where is it, Regina?”

“Oh, Emma,” you say, shaking your head slowly back and forth. “It’s honestly none of your concern.”

Her hand grips yours a little tighter before she says, “You’re my concern. You always have been.”

“Then why are you leaving once this is all over?” you snap. The question makes the air inside the vehicle stand still. You turn your head to look at her. Clearly she didn’t see that one coming. You feel your lips turn slightly upwards and even though you know your heart is glowing a little more red because of everything Emma Swan has done for you and everything you feel for her, in that moment it doesn’t matter. You blink twice and tears fall from your eyes. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out? He doesn’t remember me. I get it. But you seem to forget that I remember _everything_ about him. And those memories you have? Those were _mine first_. The first steps. The first words. The first everything. Those were _my_ memories, Emma. And I gave them to _you._ ” You look away from her and down at her hand. “Please remember that before you decide to take him from me forever.”

“Regina,” she whispers, her voice cracking.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Emma,” you say as you open the door to the bug, the creaking loud enough to wake the dead. “Please bring your A game to the magic lessons.” And with that, you slam the door and muster all of the strength you have to walk to the house without limping.

  
  



End file.
